My mother is a blooming flower,
Whose fragrance fills our home each hour.
She is the joy that softly sings,
The bliss from which our laughter springs.
My mother is a flowing stream,
That carries hopes, that fuels each dream.
She is the strength, the guiding light,
That moves our family through the night.
My mother is a boundless flame,
From which our very life became.
She is the sky, so vast, so wide,
A canopy where we confide.
My mother is the blazing sun,
The source from which all life’s begun.
She is the star whose endless grace,
Creates the cosmos, time, and space.
My mother is the world’s own art,
The soul that shapes our beating heart.
She is the womb, divine, complete,
For which even God admits defeat.
